


One Last Time

by Sagacchi



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Eventual Sex, F/F, Fluff, Gay, Humor, Introspection, Joker and Harley are Ghei Bros and that's the tea sis;, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-03-26 08:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19001926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagacchi/pseuds/Sagacchi
Summary: Joker has finally been caught, and now must face up to his crimes in court. But before Joker can do his time in jail, he finds a loophole, with Bruce Wayne the unlikely victim.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add more tags eventually. Credit to my lovely betas Connor and [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987) !!

Joker sat in his holding cell, staring out past the bars at the dingy wall looking smug as a Cheshire cat. There was no one in the cell with him. In fact, there was barely anyone around him, just the latest  _ pawn _ in Gotham's game sitting outside his cell scrolling through his phone. The cell itself was rusted, with a single rickety, worn bench that he was sitting on. There were no windows in the room, no sunlight coming through to his forsaken place in the city ( _ heh,  _ as if the sun would ever  _ truly _ reach the likes of him anyway). Multiple crease and cracks in the wall told him that the rats were no stranger to this dismal part of the world, and he  _ smiled _ at how thoughtful the GCPD were being in trying to make himself feel more at  _ home. _

 

The door to the rest of the world was heavily locked, a myriad of unnecessary padlocks and chains surrounding the door that have been modified since his last time here. He chuckled darkly to himself at this, feeling highly amused.

 

_ Sure _ , they took his suit, pickpocketed his knives, shoes (with  _ extra _ knives on the bottom), threw him in orange scrubs, even washed all his make-up off.

 

And he  _ let _ ‘em.

 

Let em think they're on top, that they've finally got everything under control, everything sorted out and filed away and  _ planned _ . Let em think that everything's going according to  _ plan _ .

 

He remembers the surprise of his arms being yanked behind his back, of the cold metal being pressed around his wrists, and being  _ rudely _ shoved into the back of the brand, spanking new cop car, with some bright-eyed and bushy-tailed newbie. From there, he was gruffly chauffeured out of the vehicle and paraded around like he was a  _ prize  _ for his  _ valiant  _ efforts as  _ Gotham's finest _ . 

 

But as he had allowed himself to be pushed, squeezed, and probed, he schooled his features into a  _ sweltering _ grin. And as they shoved him down onto the front of the vehicle, he pressed the one button he never thought he'd have to use on the run-down pager deep in his pocket.

 

Because little do these  _ chuckleheads  _ know, he's the best schemer of ‘em all.

  
  


\----------------

  
  


Bruce was wide awake, gagged and bound in a rickety kitchen chair stolen from some back alley. They had taken his blindfold off a while ago, allowing him to finally see what was going on. Judging by the look of his surroundings, he was located in a dark basement somewhere in Gotham. There were pipes over his head, and he could hear the steady drip of the many leaks circuiting throughout the tiny space. There was a small, decrepit window in the far right corner with thick iron bars covering it, with a tiny crack in it that a rat could fit through. As Batman, he would have cut through his restraints by now and found a way to get out of the current predicament he was in, but he was captured as Bruce Wayne, and that severely limited his dexterity. Bruce was already fuming at himself as to  _ how  _ and  _ why _ he got himself caught in the first place.

 

Just then, his captors burst through the only door in the cramped space, the small group being led by Harley Quinn herself. She was walking with crisp, confident steps, popping a red lollipop in and out of her mouth. Her pigtails bounced as she walked, and she wore one of her usual flashy outfits. 

 

“- but Harley, I was in the middle of-” 

 

“I don't  _ care _ what you were in the middle of,” she retorted to one of the men in the clown masks, pulling a gun out and holding it to the his temple. He quickly stopped arguing and fell silent.

 

“Mista J gave the signal, so, uh-” at this she took any especially long lick of her lollipop, sucking noises filling the space and reverberating off the walls “- that's what we're gonna do. Anyone else care to argue with me?” She asked lightheartedly, all the while pointing the revolver at them.

 

She shot the wall next to a clown's head. “Good!” she exclaimed, before rounding on himself.

 

“Now . . .” 

 

She narrowed her eyes and slunk over to him, going in close and circling him, leering at him like a cat. They all followed her lead, laughing darkly, shaking the weak chair and banging on the pipes overhead with the various weapons they were all carrying. Bruce tried to put some mild fear into his expression, doing his best to feign feeling intimidated. The name  _ “Mista J”  _ caught his attention, and the Bat was already roaring in his cage at the sound of that name. How could he have not caught onto this already?  _ Of course  _ he had something to do with this. Harley and Joker didn’t always work together, since Harley tended to do her own thing these days, but they were buddy-buddy when it counted. Had he finally figured him out? Caught up with his ruse, and all this was only a preamble for what was to come? 

 

Before he could think more on it, she was starting on him. 

 

“ _ Bruce Wayne, _ ” she said, rolling the name around in her mouth. “Aw, don’t look so scared Brucey. Can I call ya Brucey?” She smacked her lips together and slunk over, sitting on his lap and straddling him, eyeballing him like she was sizing him up. “Mista Moneybags is definitely as cute as the tabloids say,” she commented, almost as if she were taking notes or confirming something. Suddenly, she seized his jaw in her hand, forcing him to look into her calculating eyes.

 

“And it's about that money that we're here today, Brucey.” 

 

At that point, Bruce tore his jaw out of her hand and started fidgeted, trying to get out of his restraints. He didn't have to stand for this while they tried to steal his money, playboy act be damned. 

 

“Hey hey hey!” One of the cronies exclaimed, tightening his restraints and kicking him in the shins. In a moment, Harley made a grab for his balls, squeezing them painfully tight. 

 

“Oh, ya starting ta feel ballsy there, Wayne?” She asked, feigning innocence as she spit on the ground next to him. She suckled on her lollipop for a few seconds, before biting off the head and crunching it up.

 

“Ya see, Wayne,” she said, and next thing he knew, she was cocking the revolver and pressing its cold, hard barrel to his temple. “ Mista J's about to be put in the slammer for a good, long time, and we just can't have that.” 

 

“Yeah, we can't have that!” One of them crowed after her, resulting in her shooting the clown in question a threatening look, before continuing.

 

“They are offering bail, but, ah, it ain't cheap. Only allowing a family member to pay and all that.” 

 

“What good's my money gonna do, then?” Bruce forced out, feeling the blood boiling in his veins. There is no way he's paying these people anything, especially with all of Joker's crimes, for one thing, and for another he's definitely not family. 

 

Harley giggled loudly at that, an amused look in her eyes as she found the situation apparently hilarious. “Ah, Brucey,” she admonished, almost with endearment. 

 

“Ya money's gonna do a world a good, Wayne, cuz ya gettin’ hitched! Ya gonna  _ marry  _ the guy, tha whole enchilada!” she exclaimed with a flourish.

 

At this, Bruce's eyes widened into saucers, and any further attempts to struggle were met with a tightening of her grip.  _ Marry _ the  _ Joker _ ?! He would have rather been found out than  _ marry  _ the clown prince of crime himself! He irrationally started fidgeting more, which resulted in a suspicious look from Harley before she barked a laugh, startling everyone. 

 

“Didn't know you had a little spunk in ya, Wayne! But-” she took the revolver off his head, spun it expertly in her hand before she holstered it.  “-I thought it might be like this.” She stated. At this point, he was trying to vocally state his concerns, which resulted in what sounded like a bunch of muffled  _ “Mmph!” _ ’s. He saw a look of anger fall into Harley's features before she slapped him across the face. She put her lips right to his ear, murmuring.

 

“I know people in high places, Wayne, and don't think I can't connect to every female in your employ, buddy. We wouldn't want to have a little . . . harassment case on our hands, now, would we? Wouldn't want to turn our pretty little  _ Bruce Wayne _ into another Harvey Weinstein, now would we? Cuz that would be a real shame . . . I doubt anyone would want to buy from Wayne Enterprises after that . . .” she trailed off, before her tone got dangerous as she cocked her revolver and placed it back on his head again. “Now, you're gonna sign that  _ fucking  _ certificate, show up on the court date, and dole out a little green, is that understood, pretty boy? Or I'll  _ make sure  _ your little company mommy and daddy built will go down in flames.”

 

Shit. Harley wasn't one to play around. Her reputation, along with personal experience told him that. This was not good. He'd be a fool if he doubted Harley's ability to do anything, and Batman knows that a little too well. She would make good on those claims, and a fabricated mass sexual abuse scandal would take down the company his father worked so hard to build, not to mention leave himself penniless. Damnit.  _ Damnit. _

 

He knew if he risked the safety of his employees, not to mention the safety of the company his parents worked hard to build, just because he didn't want go along with her preposterous demand would be highly irresponsible of him. He knew he was fucked before he could even wrap his head around what was going on. But, selfishly, he still didn't want to go through with it. He was still processing how he got involved in this mess in the first place and he didn't want to marry a mass murderer. Call him old-fashioned, but he always thought that he would marry for love whenever he found it, and do things properly.

 

Bruce internally groaned at the thought of his love life, which was totally in the crapper at this point. He had wanted to marry Rachel, back when she was alive, but he had waited too long, had been too caught up in Batman and someone else had had their eyes on her before the blink of an eye. That was his fault, back then, and it was unfair to her. And, unsurprisingly, he has the same struggles whenever he gets close to somebody new. If he was being honest with himself, a real marriage and a family was the farthest thing from his mind. 

 

Bruce felt a spike of spite, rage and pettiness at the thought of Rachel. Joker wanted to get married? _Fine._ They'll get _fucking_ _married_. The whole kit and caboodle. Joker wanted to use him as his Get Out of Jail Free card? _Sure._ Two could play at that game. Batman _hates_ it, and Bruce certainly doesn't like it and is strongly against it, but unlike Batman, Bruce knew how to gamble and if he had to be miserable through this, he'll make sure Joker won’t have a grand old time, either.

 

_ ‘Maybe this way I'll be able to keep a closer eye on him,’ _ he reflected absently, trying to see what good might come out of the horrible, terrifying, unideal situation he was about to jump headfirst into. But he didn't see any way out of this, and him being captured as Bruce Wayne severely limits him in his ability.

 

He closed his eyes, sighing, and this time he didn't have to feign a look of defeat, before slowly nodding in assent.

 

“See? There's a good boy, Brucey. I knew you'd,  _ heh _ , come around,” She said, letting go of his testes ( _ finally _ ) and patting his head patronizingly, taking his gag off while she did so. As soon as his mouth was free, he took a huge gulp of air, working his sore jaw before speaking. 

 

“I'll meet your demands, on one condition.” He said a little hoarsely, pausing to let his words sink in, and then took the plunge before he can chicken out. 

 

“That he sign the marriage certificate with his real name, and go through a formal betrothal and wedding ceremony as his civilian self, not the Joker.” There were a lot of other unwritten things in his statement, none of which would help his case, so he just left it at that. 

 

The room immediately burst into hoots and hollers from his crew, echoing around him in the dirty basement, and he felt the beginnings of rage coil within, clenching his jaw and staring straight ahead.

 

Harley looked at him long and hard, before a slow smirk started on her lips. Knowingly. Almost  _ too _ knowingly, he thought, dread slowly being added in with his rage.

 

“ _ Well _ , well well, Brucey, I never took ya to be  _ such _ a romantic,” she commented; a mischievous, excited look in her eyes. “Tell me, does Mista J know about your unrequited love? Let me guess, a life with the stiff upper lips ‘a Gotham lead to an attraction to bad boys to escape it all?”

 

Bruce felt the rage rise at such an insinuation, and the feeling crept into his limbs, struggling to keep them still while he felt a furious blush creep onto his cheeks and he looked away, trying to keep it together and not allowing himself to say anything that might give away his position.

 

Harley just laughed again at his expression, seeming to be in a much better mood. “But, ah,  _ sure _ , we can fix him up real nice for ya, even throw in a few  _ extras, _ ” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows and winking. Bruce is already feeling like he’ll live to regret this.

 

With refreshed energy, Harley patted his chest then and pulled out his  _ Wayne Enterprises  _ ID out of his pocket. “Now, I'll just keep this as a security that ya follow up on your side of our little  _ deal _ , and I’ll be seeing ya again real soon!  _ Real _ soon, Wayne” she said, cheery, before whipping her gun out once more and rising. 

 

_ ‘What have I done,’ _ he thought, groaning internally before being blindfolded, lifted and thrown into a vehicle by his cronies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore all your comments!! Credit to Connor, Sam and [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987) for being amazing editors.

Joker was stretched out on the bench, leaning his back against the bars of the cell, his back to the guard station with his hands folded in his lap. He had easily manipulated the guard into leaving the room by  _ meticulously _ making conversation, finding his buttons and  _ delightfully  _ angering him to the point that he stepped out.  _ Perfect _ . 

 

He subtly slid his left hand down his side aligned with the wall, leaning down slightly and reaching under said bench, which was by now well worn. He explored around underneath until he felt the false bottom. He maneuvered it to the side until he reached the object of his desire: a tiny, prepaid flip phone. He had hidden it there years ago in a brief stint, just in case  _ push _ , heh, came to  _ shove _ . He had hollowed out a notch in the bench where the legs met the plank, right by the nails holding everything together. By now, he could feel how dinged it up it was, the chips in its glossy coat, the cracks in its screen. Pulling the device up slightly while making sure to keep it concealed, he flipped it open and powered it on, grinning down at it as he speed dialed the only number he bothered to save.

 

After ringing a few times, the call reached its recipient, and he discreetly pressed the phone to his ear. “Harley Quinn, at ya service!” She answered with a flourish. 

 

Joker licked his lips. “Which elitist brat d’ya get for me, Harls?” he replied, narrowing his eyes.

 

Harley giggled. “ _ Oh _ , I think you’ll be  _ quite _ pleased with who I ended up with,” she stated, the excitement in her voice was palpable. “Because his name starts with  _ Bruce _ and ends with  _ Wayne _ .”

 

Joker ground his teeth. “King crybaby  _ himself _ ? Aw, Harls, you, ah,  _ really _ shouldn't have,” he growled. Why did he let them take all his knives? He needed a knife in his hands, now.

 

 _Bruce. Wayne. Bruce. Fucking. Wayne._ He _despised_ people like _Bruce fucking Wayne_. All he did was represent the _established order_. Just sat on his ass and reaped benefits at the expense of everyone _else._ _His_ life was somehow more valuable, more _precious_ than others. And on top of being elitist _scum_ , the fact that he has the nerve to cry about _one little travesty_ that happened in his life made him want to feed him to dogs. 

 

“Aw don't be like that, Mista J. He's got  _ more  _ than enough cash. An' he wasn't all that bad actually, was pretty feisty for a wuss . . . Definitely caught  _ me  _ by surprise. And get this: I think he might even have a  _ crush _ on ya! HAHAH!"

 

He rolled his eyes, used to her antics but  _ annoyed  _ all the same. The use of the word  _ crush _ made him want to cut his ears off. He grit his teeth.

 

"And  _ why _ , pray tell, do you say, uh,  _ that _ , pigtails?"

 

"Oh nothin, 'cept for the face that he just wouldn't stop blushing as soon as I mentioned ya name Mista J!" She broke out into a ear-splitting giggle.

 

I mean, who, heh,  _ wouldn't  _ think he’s raw sex appeal _ ,  _ is the real question. Wussy boy had a  _ crush  _ on him?  _ Blushing Bruce Wayne?  _ He wanted to laugh obnoxiously at the thought. But nevertheless, he saved that bit of information for later, an added perk to manipulate the little prick to his advantage. 

 

There was silence on the other line, and Joker could tell that there was more to this story the longer Harley's silence prolonged. Joker could pick up on every little  _ detail _ over the shitty, run down phone, knew her inside and out. She was stating what she thought of as  _ true _ , but she was hoping it would distract him from other  _ findings _ she was leaving out. Findings that he might not appreciate. What a bad joke.

 

He growled. "C'mon, c'mon, out with the rest of it," He didn't  _ have  _ all day to talk on a smuggled phone. 

 

Her breath hitched over the line, before stating, "Ya just gonna have to find out in court later!" Followed by a  _ parade  _ of giggles and then the line going dead.

 

Joker threw the phone across the room in a fury, where it clattered to the ground.

  
  
  


\----------------

  
  
  


Bruce stood nervously outside the judge’s office, awaiting the rest of the parties to arrive so the proceedings could take place. He would sit, but he was too antsy. Despite limiting the Bat's activities to prepare for today, he barely had any sleep that night. He tossed and turned, and ultimately gave up on sleep altogether around 5AM. For the next few months, at least, his life will be turned upside down. If things go his way, that is. 

 

Which brought him to the second reason why he was anxious, despite the schmoozing that he had painstakingly done. Bruce knew it wasn’t right to buy them out, but he couldn’t see any other way, especially as playboy Bruce Wayne. He unfortunately had to spend a significant amount of money, bought a significant amount of drinks, threw an expensive party, and generally did all things  _ playboy  _ Bruce Wayne would do. And while Bruce felt like pulling his hair out at it all, he soldiered through it.

 

Because he couldn't afford for things  _ not  _ to go his way today. He could not let the public in on what was about to transpire in this room. His name and reputation would go down the drain in a way that he would never be able to recover from. This was a damaging enough blow to his psyche and self esteem; he didn’t need the whole world adding pressure on top of it. Normally, he would be against such things, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Bruce himself was being blackmailed into this by that damn carbon copy of  _ ‘Mista J’ _ to begin with. And if he was more careful, he would never have allowed himself to be captured in the  _ first _ place.

 

However, he was both amazed and unsurprised at exactly  _ how corrupt _ the court officials in Gotham really were. The original bribe amounts he offered were not enough to sate them; he had to keep making bribe after bribe. Then, once he had their support and confidentiality, he made sure to throw a huge, Bruce Wayne-style party for extra measure.  

 

But, hey, money is no object for the likes of  _ Bruce Wayne _ .

 

It was an unfortunately familiar song and dance that had followed him around his whole life. This corruption was one of the reasons why he chose to  _ become  _ Batman in the first place. 

 

Point of all this being, despite being relatively confident things were going to go his way today, he still couldn't settle himself down. Couldn't believe that he was about to help not only a  _ hardened criminal _ , but Batman's arch enemy as well. It was no lie that Joker had been the scourge of his existence for most of Batman's career. Bruce didn't need to study the files that Lucius had given him; he had studied and compiled his own files in the Batcave way before these files were given to him and had Batman as a personal witness in most of his charges. He was  _ agonizingly familiar  _ with each crime and each person's life he had taken, put in jeopardy, ruined. You name anything about the Joker's crimes, and he knew everything about it by heart already. Blowing up Gotham General, killing countless police officers, at least 2,000 counts of kidnapping, and too many counts of assault to keep up with are just a few of his crimes. Right now he can’t even bare to think about the crime most personal to him.

 

When he had confided the situation to Lucius and asked him to be his lawyer, he heaved a longsuffering sigh and tiredly replied, "And I thought you were obsessed with your work before," followed by a sly smile. He didn't know what that meant, didn't know what it was supposed to mean, but it didn't sit well with him. Quite frankly, he was stunned he wasn't receiving more flack from the man. Lucius was known to voice his opinion, so why was he so  _ fine _ with this . . . ? 

 

He could feel a migraine starting to form.

 

Before he could sit there and agonize more over the abysmal rut he found himself in, he heard the side doors open, and the judge and the district attorney made their way down the expansive corridor in their pristine, black suits. With somber looks on their faces, they disguised the depths of their corruption well, for they put out a completely different aura than when they were partying with Bruce. They had done this act so many times that they were quite skilled in hiding themselves, to Bruce’s mild horror. He angered slightly, wondering how many other times they pulled this charade and how many people had gotten away. 

 

As the judge and the accompanying prosecutors presiding over the case unlocked her doors and walked into her office, Bruce reluctantly followed. As he stepped through the doorway, Bruce was amazed by how spacious and luxurious her office was. With red mahogany flooring, built-in bookcases and paneling of the same material lining the walls, her office had the look of something right out of Washington, DC. Most of the floor was covered by an antique blue rug with red swirling designs across it. Not only that, the windows were also lined with tall, red velvet drapes, and the office also featured an antique-looking fireplace not too far away from her desk. Set atop the mantle were priceless antiques that Bruce was sure all his corruption money allowed her to buy. On the other side of the room was a rectangular table, adorned with red, cushy chairs where everyone was heading. Bruce followed them and sat on the closest side facing the window, doing his best to seem nonchalant.

 

Not long after, Lucius strolled in and sat down next to him with the same smile he always wore on his face. He was surprised more people weren’t giving him flak about Lucius representing him, but he decided to take what blessings were given to him. He shelled out enough money to these assholes as it was; he didn’t need that being brought into the mix as well. Lucius gave him a pat on his shoulder.

 

“You’re sure about all this?” he asked, leaning in quietly. 

 

“I don’t see a way out of this one this time, besides leaving the country and changing my name to Larry,” Bruce joked lightheartedly, despite the nerves that were coiling up and wrapping around themselves in his stomach. He took a moment to seriously consider doing just that. However, his own mind robbed him of that fantasy, and felt the need to point out that Harley would manage to find him even then. He held back a deep sigh.

 

The thought of Harley reminded him of the Joker, and he suddenly realized that he and his public defender would enter any minute now. His nerves became ten times worse at the thought. He had never faced the Joker as Bruce Wayne, and felt stripped of every defence he usually had when dealing with the man. As Batman, he was broad, strong, swift, blending in with the night and serving justice to whomever came his way. But as Bruce, he felt small compared to the man, with nothing to hide behind - and the feeling produced a distinct discomfort that settled itself right on top of the bundle of anxiety in his stomach and through his bones. He hadn't felt this way about anything in a  _ long _ time, so long that it was hard to remember when it was and what it was pertaining. 

 

He looked to Lucius, who must've picked up on his aura and gave him a reassuring nod, if only to try and settle him down. He needed to get ahold of himself. If Lucius could pick up on his feelings, Joker would definitely pick up on them, and that would only spell trouble for him, if not today then at a later time. Reigning himself in, he pushed the feeling away as much as possible, trying to focus on the pedestrians strolling on the sidewalk below. 

 

However, in no time at all, Bruce could hear a door slam open down the hallway, quick footsteps on floorboards echoing down the corridor, accompanied by the distinct sound of muttering. Joker angrily burst into the room dressed in his distressed purple suit, green vest, and gloves, and as Bruce mustered the courage to look at the man’s face, he couldn’t help but let out an exhale. As he took in the Joker's make-upless features, he didn’t expect him to be so  _ startlingly  _ handsome under all that powder, despite the annoyance evident on his face. His black eyes were dangerous, yet alluring, and the famous scars on each side of his mouth were certainly unmistakable, and made even more of a powerful statement by themselves. Accompanied with his long, curly, unkempt hair - even without his make-up he created a wild look, and Bruce couldn’t stop staring.  

 

Realizing where his thoughts were going, he felt himself redden slightly, and closed his eyes momentarily, attempting to clear his mind. When he opened them, he found the Joker staring right at him, a dark, calculating look in his eyes. By now Joker had taken a seat adjacent to Bruce and had spread his limbs out as much as he could, no doubt in a show of dominance. Bruce blinked, and looked away quickly as he felt his pulse quicken, peering towards the public defender the government had apparently given Joker. A small, balding man with glasses, he had walked nervously behind Joker to his seat, his hands and briefcase full of papers. Visibly trembling, he pushed his thick glasses up his nose and attempted to straighten out the bundle he had brought with him. Bruce looked at him with slight sympathy. He didn’t think the asshole really  _ deserved  _ to have anyone defending him, but they stuck this poor guy with him?

 

The Joker threw a disgusted look at the public defender, and the man paled, dropping his bundle, and looked close to fainting.

 

The district attorney breathed out heavily, breaking the silence. “Well, let’s get this over with.” 

 

Joker gave a malicious chuckle. "Is _that_ what we're doing? _Getting this over with_?" He responded, leering over at the DA. 

 

"Yeah, it is, because no one except for Mr. Philanthropist over there wants to deal with you, you _sick_ _freak_ ," the DA responded, scowling and crossing his arms. He was tall, with swept brown hair, smooth features, and always managed to have a look on his face that screamed, _‘please punch me, right now’_. 

 

Joker’s eye twitched at the arrogance of the prosecutor, attempting reigning it in just a little before he folded his hands together on the table and leaned in, licking his lips. " _I,_ uh, wouldn't go down this road with me, buddy," he warned, turning his head to the side while keeping his eyes on the man. Bruce was morbidly impressed that even without his make-up, he was still able to remain unapologetically himself.

 

"That's enough," the judge interjected before anyone could continue, clearing her throat and calling order to the room. She was a stout black woman with her hair cut into a bob. She looked sharply to the both of them, a no-nonsense look on her face. She was known for keeping tight control of her courtrooms when she was serving, as well as her 'whatever-means-necessary' attitude. 

 

“Mr. Peabody, your defendant has accepted the plea bargain, Is that correct?”

 

The slight man momentarily ceased fidgeting around with his papers and smoothed the few hairs over his bald spot. “Y-yes, Your Honor,”

 

“And Mr. Fox, your client is willing to provide spousal monetary assistance, is that correct?"

 

Lucius straightened up as he was about to speak. 

 

"Yes, Your Honor, but my client has a few . . . conditions to such assistance."

 

"Please state them presently." 

 

"Yes, Your Honor. My client's premises are that the defendant's true identity be sealed and the signing of the marriage certificate be delayed until an official wedding ceremony can be performed,” Lucius took a moment to clear his throat. “I don't think I need to tell you that, as the CEO of an international multi-billion dollar enterprise, if the defendant's identity were to be revealed to the public, there would be a monstrous scandal in Gotham affecting not only my client and his business, but yourselves as well. Wayne Enterprises has a hand in many industries, and as such this would cause a slight economic collapse in Gotham, not to mention decreased funding for programs such as Wayne Biotech's cancer research.”

 

He paused to look at the judge, aiming a meaningful stare at her, before continuing. “In terms of an allowance of time before the marriage certificate signage, this would allow my client to perform a, shall we say,  _ proper _ betrothal in the public eye and prevent  . . . certain prying eyes from seeing the document. Mr. Wayne here always seems to find himself in the tabloids, playboy or not, and his betrothal will be highly publicized event no matter how you cut it.  By allowing such measures to be taken, and utter and total confidentiality assured, not only would you be protecting my client's interests, but, ah, yours as well, Your Honor." Lucius nodded, motioning towards the judge, before he leaned back and folded his hands in his lap.

 

Bruce looked to Joker, seeing shock and anger on his features. The clown was about to open his mouth and say another snide comment before the judge beat him to the punch.

 

"You bring up some good points, Mr. Fox. Yes, I'll allow it, on the additional clause that the defendant Jack Ramsay’s movements be tracked not only by our office, but by Mr. Wayne and his team as well. We will be performing random check ups to make sure that those efforts are being enforced.”

 

At this, Joker could contain himself no longer. 

 

“HI, uh, excuse me,” He stated and cleared his throat, somehow managing to make the sound menacing, “So you’re telling me that I not only have to play  _ tabloids _ with moody orphan Annie over here," he motioned over to Bruce, "but I have to play  _ house _ with the guy too?” 

 

The DA stood to his feet, his feathers ruffled by this decision as well. “Your Honor, this is ridiculous. You’re  _ allowing  _ it? I don’t understand how you’re allowing any of this! Just  _ throw  _ the fucking lunatic in  _ jai- _ "

 

“And what good has that done?” She bellowed, choosing this moment to make her authority clear. “Our attempts thus far have all been proven futile. We need a new approach and Mr. Wayne is providing that. It has been decided.” The judge stood up, dusting off her clothes and made her way towards Lucius to shake his hand. 

 

And just like that, any small sliver of hope that Bruce could go back to life as it once was, disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another Chapter! Sorry this one took so long - I had to draw out house plans. This one's a bit longer than the others . . . 😉. I hope you like it - I live for all your comments! Credit to Connor, Sam, and [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987) for editing! 🌈

Bruce sat in his Lamborghini, waiting for the guards to bring out Joker. ' _Or Jack,_ ' he mused silently, turning the name over in his mind. It felt obscenely foreign to him to address Joker as anything but _the Joker_ , simply because he'd never known him by any other name. Bruce wondered what would happen if he addressed him as _Jack_. He almost felt improper addressing him by his real name, but it strangely suited him, being just as rogue-ish as his pseudonym.

 

Bruce was pleased that things had gone his way in court, certainly. He felt like he effectively obtained a bittersweet type of revenge for being forced into this. However, now that it was all over, the reality of the situation started to set in. Anxiety and tension blossomed in his gut at the thought of having _the Joker_ walking around his penthouse.Tinkering with his things. Harassing or possibly doing worse to Alfred. More and more of his muscles tightened the more he thought about all the trouble Joker could get into. He really wished he could’ve just put a tracker on the clown. He knew Alfred was fully capable of defending himself, and he had his full faith in the man, but that didn't stop him from worrying. Against his wishes, he had set up temporary quarters for his butler in the batcave. Until when, he didn't know. His thoughts hadn't even remotely gone that far yet. Or even as far as thinking of this mess past today.

 

Before his thoughts could plunge any more down that path, he saw the guards escorting the Joker out of the building and towards his car. It still shocked Bruce to see him without his make-up on, and with his purple and green suit; he felt like his face should be painted. If he was wearing something different, Bruce would mistake him for someone else at first glance. This same man who committed catastrophic crimes now just appeared to be incomplete and slightly more human.

 

Anger seeped into his mind at the thought of all the anarchist’s deeds. It was because of _him_ Bruce was in this rotten mess of a situation, and now Bruce had to sleep with the enemy, literally. Bruce shook his head, feeling his ears turn red. Bruce had been _very pointedly_ avoiding any thought towards the fact that there will be a few moments where they would have to be . . . intimate. It was the least savory part about all this. Bruce had never explored anything sexual with men, and he wasn’t keen on that changing. He pushed any further thoughts on the matter out of his mind.

 

As Joker approached the vehicle, Bruce took notice of him shoving himself out of the grip the guards had on his forearms, a deeply annoyed look in his eyes as he swung the car door open, growling in frustration. He climbed into the low-riding vehicle, slamming the door after him and turned to Bruce. _Jack_ leaned over, and a gloved hand gripped his jaw harshly. He aimed that gaze at Bruce, licking his lips, and Bruce felt his heartbeat quicken at their proximity. As Bruce looked into those mysterious eyes, they were just as dark without make-up and alarmingly more expressive; _surprisingly_ more telling, passionate - so much more _human._ His furrowed eyebrows created a deadpan, confident expression on his face. Bruce let his own eyes travel downwards, and at how close they were now, Bruce could trace every crevice the scars created around his mouth and in his cheeks. Joker’s wild green hair, now faded, framed his features, and his strong jawline clenched as he opened his mouth.

 

“Listen, _Annie_ , I don’t know when you suddenly decided to grow _balls_ , but your little, ahem, _attempt_ at trying to control this situation - it’s a bad joke. You and your so-called " _team_ ",” Joker mocked, creating air quotes with his other hand, “may think you have a _leash_ on me, but _I_ run this city and _I_ call the shots, and it's _hilarious_ that Judge Judy thinks otherwise." Joker shifted in his seat, the grip he had on his jaw slowly sliding down to his neck, the leather-clad hands tightening slightly in a loose chokehold. "But life is _chaos_ and you _intrigue_ me, so I'm gonna _humor_ ya and _go along_ with this little charade of yours, pretty boy."

 

Bruce felt his anger spike as a blush rose to his cheeks, muscles contracting to shove himself out of Joker's grip. “ _I_ don’t want any of this, y _ou’re_ the one who forced me into marrying you, I’m just finishing it.” He spit out, bitter rage evident in his tone as he started the engine and shifted gears, speeding off too fast.

 

Joker let out a laugh at that. " _Feisty_ , are we? Ya know _you're_ the one who took this so _seriously_ , sweetheart. You need to . . . lighten up _,”_ he said, lifting his eyebrows and licking his lips as he moved a large, gloved hand on his knee. “I could, uh, _fix_ that,"

 

Bruce almost _jumped_ at the unexpected contact and felt himself turning a distinct shade of burgundy all the way up to his ears. Enraged, he smacked Joker's hand away. "Not in a million years!"

 

At this, Joker appeared to be downright _gleeful_ , his fury subsiding as he snickered in the passenger seat. "Oh, _you_ are just too much _fun_ . Almost like a _bat_ I know, except you’re all _red._ Tell me, do you even _feel_ anything boning those blonde bimbos all the time?"

 

Bruce’s face was set in a deep frown as Joker hit a nerve, driving over the bridge into midtown, zig zagging through the streets of Gotham. “That’s highly inappropriate and none of your business.”

 

“Mmmm, but it _is_ , considering I’m about to be your fiance, _dear_ ," Joker replied, rumbling his response into his ear, and Bruce felt his warm breath ghost over his cheek and an unknown feeling shiver down his spine that he distinctly _didn’t like_.

 

Bruce tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he sped through the last few blocks towards his parking garage. “This conversation is over.” He stated matter-of-factly, and he pulled in. He needed to get out of this damn car. If it got any hotter in here he was going to start sweating through his suit. “We’re here,”

 

“Didn’t take _playboy_ Bruce Wayne to be such a party pooper,” Joker commented offhandedly as they both got out of the car, which Bruce chose to ignore.

 

Bruce stalked up to his private entrance in the garage with the wisecrack, heading towards his penthouse at the top. They reached the doorway and Bruce grabbed the key out of his pocket, unlocking it to reveal a private elevator up to his pad. He decided to take the elevator with Joker, just to make sure that he didn't go and try any funny business.

 

Bruce kept his eyes on the elevator doors in front of him despite the distinct feeling of someone ogling him. It was then that Bruce remembered that Joker's never really seen him before. This was his first time meeting Bruce Wayne, which was strange for him to think about, because Bruce has known Joker as Batman for at least two or three years. The thought never really ran through his mind that Joker’s never really met _him_ before. The realization made everything feel much more intimate, and Bruce shifted his weight from foot to foot, starting to feel hot again.

 

The elevator finally reached the last floor, opening to reveal marble tiles and modern, black double doors. As they got off, Bruce turned to find the man much closer than expected and staring at him, pupils dilated, just like he did in the courtroom. Bruce was surprised with himself, since he _never_ gets caught unaware. He pushed the disturbing thought out of his mind and blinked, looking away and clearing his throat.

 

"My butler will be waiting for you inside to show you around. I have to run to the office." He just needed to get away, and now. He started moving towards the door when Joker reached out and captured his chin, forcing Bruce’s gaze towards him. “What, daddy doesn’t even get a kiss goodbye?”

 

Bruce once again pushed himself away, marched towards the elevator, and actually let out a slight chuckle at that. “Hilarious you actually think _you’re_ ‘daddy’.”

 

Joker sniggered under his breath. “ _Oh_ , _you’ll_ see,” He replied in a gravelly tone, and walked through the double doors, leaving Bruce wondering.

  


\------------------

  


Joker didn’t know Wayne was so _fucking gorgeous._

 

Sure, he’s seen the man in newspaper clippings but, as he well knows, _newspapers_ and, eheh, _real life_ are two totally different things, y’see.

 

 _And_ the kid had a little fight in him . . . so _feisty_ and easy to fuck with, so _cute_ the way he blushes all the way to his ears.

 

Damn.

 

It had been a _long_ time since anyone other Batsy got him so hard. He himself was having a tough time believing that he was this fascinated by _Bruce Fucking Wayne._

 

Oh, and Bruce _definitely_ had a thing for him. He could tell by the way he looked at him when Joker was choking him, the distinct _bulge_ in his pants at just a light touch from his gloved hand. Joker didn't know exactly _why_ the guy was denying him, but Joker _enjoyed_ a good chase, and he already, heh, had a plan in mind for this evening.

 

He hoped Wayne had a nice shower, cuz he needed a cold one.

 

Just then, he heard the noise of someone clearing their throat, and he looked up to see an old man clad in the typical black and white suit with a black tie of a butler. Slightly heavyset with white hair, he aimed his most _disgusted_ glare at Joker.

 

"If you're quite done ruining Master Wayne's life, he's ordered me to show you the essentials."

 

Joker snapped to attention at the offhand remark, pointing his piercing eyes at the man, mouth parted slightly in wonderment and dramatically looking around before motioning to himself with both hands. “Me? _I’m ruining_ his life? No no no no Jeeves y’see, Wayne didn’t _have_ to do _any_ of this. No one, ever, _has_ to do anything. So, _Master Wayne_ is _choosing_ to deal with me. Besides, we gave the guy a few options. That’s being _more_ than generous, really, don’t you think?”

 

The manservant mustered up his most unamused look. “Just _bounteous_. Now if you’ll come right this way,”

 

They currently stood in a foyer area, with the hallway turning right. Creamy, beige marble tiles covered the floor, with black marble tiles on the edge. To his right, large floor-to-ceiling windows covered the wall. A few tasteful plants were here and there, and on the right wall next to the elevator sat an old shoe filled with hair trimmings under a plexiglass case atop a pedestal, titled _Untitled_ ; some sort of ultramodern, overvalued, hyper-hip _trash_ art by a wannabe Duchamp. Typical. He might _really_ have to have a talk with Wayne about this.

 

As the elderly butler led him out of the foyer area, Joker opened up at the first door on the left. The door was of a black dyed wood with tiny, square paneling engraved into it and a long silver knob. Upon opening it, straight in front of him sat more floor-to ceiling windows with blinding sunlight blaring into his eyes. Accompanying the floor to ceiling windows, covering each wall stood large bookcases with ladders. The marble tiles continued into what was obviously a library. The black tiles outlined the bookcases, and were arranged into a cylindrical design in the middle. A few feet away from the windows sat a large black desk with a computer, and a couple feet from the desk were two chairs and a sofa which were facing each other.

 

Joker slowly turned around in a circle, taking in his surroundings. “Didn’t take Mr., ahem, _Trust Fund_ to be an avid reader, Jeeves.” He’ll have to come back to investigate Wayne’s taste in literature later.

 

“Oh, that’s Mr. Pennyworth to you,” the old man said heavily. “And I don’t see why you would care what the young master likes and dislikes,”

 

“ _Well,_ you shouldn’t, eheh, judge a book by it’s cover, _Pennyworth_. Did Bruce give you that name to make a statement about your work?”

 

 _Jeeves_ refused to acknowledge his _excellent_ pun, turning on his heel and headed out the door.  A smaller door next to the library led to a bathroom, and large black double doors on the right side of the corridor opened up to what appeared to be an oversized movie room. The marble flooring continued on into this room as well, with a humongous throw rug around the humongous coffee table, humongous wrap around sofa and _humongous_ television set. They padded through this room, saying nothing to each other with _more_ annoying ultramodern art assaulting his eyeballs until they reached another set of large black double doors.

 

They continued this process, going through the luxury chef's kitchen he was sure got little to no use, the breakfast bar, formal dining room, down a hallway, turning left into a gigantic ballroom. Truthfully, he remembered all this _vaguely_ from the last time he was here trying to find that rascally _Dent_ . They headed towards a large elevator in the middle of the ballroom and headed up towards the second floor, through _another_ ballroom (don't know _where_ Wayne would be without his _second ballroom_ ), up _another_ elevator, until they finally reached the third floor.

 

"On this floor are all guest rooms, with Master Wayne's room in the back,” Jeeves started with a note of finality, sounding relieved.

 

Joker raised his eyebrows at this, his tongue pushing out the side of his cheek. Looking around the long hallway, he then proceeded to open every door, finding a few bathrooms along the way.

 

 _Mr._ _Pennyworth_ cleared his throat. “They’re all guest rooms, sir,” he stated once more with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

 

"Now, Jeeves, I need to make sure my _darling_ little fiance isn’t keeping any, eheh, _bunnies_ in this penthouse, now don’t I?”

 

Alfred rolled his eyes at this. “Yes, quite. Now once you’re done with that charade, pick a room you want and settle in and Master Wayne will be back tonight.”

 

“Oh, I’ve got one in mind, uh, already,” He remarked, strolling towards Bruce’s room with confidence.  

 

Seeing where the clown was heading, Alfred closed his eyes out of frustration momentarily, turned, and shuffled down the hall, washing his hands of this whole touring nonsense. His charge can deal with that once he gets home tonight. He will have no more part of this _fiasco_.

 

Joker opened the large double doors of _Master_ Bruce’s master suite, where every wall was a window, offering panoramic city views. Glass doors lead out to the third floor balcony, with the same marble flooring here as throughout the rest of the penthouse. A king-size bed and two empty nightstands sat in the left corner. In the right corner was a little seating area with a small TV.

 

 _‘Huh,’_ Joker thought to himself. This room did not fit in with the rest of what he’d seen. Bruce’s room was startlingly bare. He would have expected all the ultimate luxuries in the bedroom of billionaire Bruce Wayne, but for such a huge space, there was almost nothing in it, no signs of living at all, nada. On the back wall next to a door sat the only piece of art that was hung in the room. Joker recognized this as a famous painting by Magritte. In it, a man and a woman were kissing, however, there were white cloths over each one’s head. Joker was deeply surprised Wayne had this type of work, considering his track record with the rest of the place. Surrealism wasn’t exactly a genre of art that he would equate with Bruce Wayne liking.

 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, uh, _indeed_.”

  


\---------------

  


Bruce packed up his desk, huffing in frustration for an excuse to stay when there was no more work. It was about 10pm, and despite knowing that he needed to go home, he _really_ didn't want to. And he knew he couldn't risk going out as batman tonight. Not after the day he's had. He dragged his feet to the door, reluctantly entering his Lamborghini. He took the slowest, most scenic route home, taking his time to appreciate in a new light the beauty of Gotham at night. He hadn’t really _admired_ Gotham since he was a little boy; Bruce had always been too busy either with his company or with Batman, and doing so helped relax him a bit.

 

As he pulled into the garage and parked his car, he closed his eyes and gripped his steering wheel, wild thoughts running through his mind. Joker seemed to be . . . interested in him, to say the least, so Bruce doubted Joker would hurt Alfred. Bruce was banking on the fact that typically if you were trying to get in someone’s pants, you didn’t murder their family. Besides, it wasn't like him to just commit random crimes. Everything Joker did had a purpose, despite his claims. Still, this was the Joker he was dealing with, and Bruce couldn't help but worry.

 

He opened his eyes. He needed to go in there, whether he liked it or not. Gathering his remaining willpower, he turned the car off and opened the door, getting out of the car and slamming the car door a little roughly, before locking it and making his way to his private entrance. The elevator ride up seemed to go on for eternity, with the bundle of nerves and anxiety in his stomach growing the closer he got to his floor.

 

As soon as the doors opened, he strode quickly through the entrance to his abode, trying not to run. As he went through and checked every room for any occupants, it didn’t take long for him to find Alfred waiting for him in the family room, his nose in a book. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn’t known he was holding, Bruce saw the man who raised him look up at him.

 

“Besides irritating my every nerve, I’m fine, Master Wayne, though I don’t know why you insist upon having that psychopath here, sir.” Alfred said unprompted, reading him like the book he was holding.

 

“Even if there was a way to get myself out of this, Alfred, he wouldn’t leave me alone at this point,” Bruce replied, defeated.

 

“According to him, you’re _choosing_ to deal with the madman, Master Wayne, and part of me is inclined to agree,” Alfred cautioned, irritated at his young charge for not taking a stand.

 

Bruce felt a blush creeping up his neck. “I was blackmailed into this by Harley, I can’t let my father’s company and family name go to ruin. It’s one of the few pieces of him I have left. I know I didn’t exactly understand that in my younger years, but I thought you’d be satisfied to know that I do now.” Bruce refrained from adding in that at least he’ll be able to keep a better eye on the clown, figuring that the comment wouldn’t help his case. He didn’t know _why_ Alfred was blaming him for this madness. He was forced into this.

 

Alfred put his book down, stood up and grabbed his coat, refusing to argue about this any more. “He’s on the third floor. I’ll see you in the morning, Master Wayne,” He bid farewell, patting his shoulder as he walked out. Bruce watched Alfred leave in disgust, confusion coursing through the billionaire, and then turned his attention to the rest of his house, Alfred’s words lingering slightly in his thoughts before pushing them away. He was forced into this no matter which way he looked at it. He didn’t know what his butler was talking about.

 

Making his way through his penthouse and up to the third floor, Bruce made sure to check every room for the man and braced himself for whatever he might find. However, he was nowhere in sight. Sighing to himself, he decided to take a much needed shower before retiring. Bruce figured he was probably in one of the other guest suites, and headed to his room, washing up. He came out in a t-shirt and sweats, toweling off his hair before tossing it in the laundry bin and climbing into bed, relaxing.

 

Except he wasn't alone, apparently, for as he laid there he felt the body heat of someone else.

 

"Why hello there, _darling,_ " an all-too-familiar voice called out from a corner of the bed, and Bruce's eyes shot open, his heartbeat skyrocketing.

 

 _Stupid_ of him to believe Joker would have gone to another room.

 

He sighed, for the umpteenth time that night. "Why are you in my bed, Joker?" Bruce asked, although he regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. He didn't even know why he bothered to ask, he needed to just leave.

 

He felt Joker's _bare_ hand reach over and caress his far side, all at once realizing how _close_ the man was to him. Bruce felt his hot breath ghost over his ear and down his neck, continuing to stroke his side, his touch shockingly gentle. "Now now, doll, y'see I'm about to become your _fiance_ , did you _really_ think I'd sleep in a _different_ room?"

 

 _'Maybe I was just hoping,_ ' Bruce thought to himself as Joker continued to stroke his side, massaging his muscles from time to time. Bruce felt hot all over as his strokes crept lower and lower, dangerously close to his crotch. He knew that he didn't have to take this, that he needed to get up, but he seemed unable to will himself to move or pull himself away. He attempted to concentrate on getting air into his lungs, which had apparently become a difficult process, when Joker slid his palm over his clothed member, inducing _something_ to jolt through Bruce at the action, causing his whole body to tense.

 

Joker utilized this moment to climb on top of him, opening up Bruce's legs with his own, as Joker's elbows pressed into the mattress around Bruce's face. Joker was clad in a black tank top with his muscular arms surrounding him, and Bruce really stared at him for the first time that night, finding his pupils blown out and a hungry look on his face, one he's never quite witnessed up close before tonight. As Bruce looked up at him, Joker chose that exact moment to press their hips together. Joker's full arousal lay pressed right on top of Bruce's dick through Joker's boxer briefs and Bruce's sweatpants, and Bruce was able to feel just how big _Jack_ was in comparison to him.

 

Bruce’s eyes widened into saucers as Joker tilted his head, once again feeling his exhale trail along his neck and towards his collarbone. “Besides, there’s only _one_ bed and I think I should show you exactly _why_ I’m daddy,” He stated in a guttural tone, voice low and _sensual_ and-

 

Bruce’s _own_ erection strained back towards the man.

 

_His own arousal._

 

Bruce’s brain short-circuited for a moment, then a flood of self-awareness blasted through his brain as his eyes popped out of his head. Panicking, he flung the man destined to be his betrothed off of him and ran out of the room.


End file.
